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Black death
After several years of intense cramming, Michel got
permission to establish himself as a physician. His
studies were not completed yet, but he definitely
wanted to go and help the plague victims in the
country. In the back of his mind he always held the
thought that the Black Death would awaken his
dormant insight, according to the message from
Hermes. The nineteen-year-old physician told
François about his intention, who regretted it, but
agreed that his friend was ready for the real work.
“And what will you call yourself?” François asked.
“Just Doctor De Nostredame.”
“You know that scientists embellish their names with
a Latin ending, don’t you?”
“Yes, but …” Michel hesitated, not wanting to be
vain.
“It’s important the make an impression, you know.
What do you think of Nostradamus?”
“Sounds great!” his buddy laughed, submitting to the
idea. A few days later, the two friends bade each
other farewell and promised to keep in touch.
Michel returned to his parents’ home, so that from
Saint Rémy he could offer his knowledge in the
surrounding areas. They were very happy with the
return of their son, and Father spontaneously
offered him Grandpa’s attic.
“Shouldn’t you discuss that with Julien first?”
Reynière cautioned her husband.
“Julien only studies up there, but Michel is going
to be bringing in money”, he retorted.
“You’re just walking all over that boy,” she
disapproved.
“All right, I’ll ask him what he thinks.” Julien,
who was studying law up in the attic, had no problem
with making room for his eldest brother, as it
turned out, and he moved back into his former room,
along with his books. His older brother’s presence
was good for him too; he could now help him
translate texts. All’s well that ends well. Michel
was happy to see his family again; his last visit
had been a year ago, and he observed the familiar
goings-on with a broadened mind. His little brothers
had grown into strapping lads and were about to
leave the nest and go out into the wide world.
Bertrand wanted to be a carpenter. Most of the
woodwork in the house was made by him. He definitely
didn’t want to be a notary like his father, “because
he has a deformed forehead from all that brainwork”,
he claimed. Father did indeed have a strange
forehead: it was flat, high and stuck way out. His
hands, by contrast, were exceptionally nicely shaped.
In addition, Jacques was a bit stuffy; he always
considered everything in the minutest detail. His
wife was more in touch with her intuition. Michel
noticed for the first time what an attractive woman
his mother was. She had a great figure, beautiful,
warm eyes and long shiny brown hair, which she
usually wore up. It was a pity that she was a bit
too trusting with strangers; a few times, money had
disappeared in her presence. Father, on the other
hand, had a healthy dose of suspicion in that regard,
so the two completed each other quite well. The
other brothers, Hector and Antoine didn’t know what
they were going to do yet.
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